Knights of the Old Republic: The Unknown Regions
by The-Lemon-Thrower
Summary: After the Ebon Hawk flies away into Space, what does the crew do? What happens? So many answers, and so many questions... WARNING: I incorporated LSF for both the Exile and Revan. Also, my story does NOT take into account the cut content of KotOR II.
1. Chapter 1: The Exile's Recovery

_Disclaimer: All characters you see and/or don't see here are trademarks and property of Lucas Arts, Obsidian, and Bioware. Apparently, slavery isn't prohibited in the Video Game Industry..._

Chapter I: The Exile's Recovery

_Snap._ A circular, round ship shot through the blackness and twinkling stars of space, following a Hyperspace route. It's orange and beige markings fooled the looker into the belief that this was a republican-born ship, but the _Ebon Hawk_'s history proved otherwise. Only the motley crew within its broad hull gave away its current alliance towards the Galactic Republic. One of the crew— a young, brown-haired boy in his early twenties— sat up from the cockpit seat while white and cyan light streaked by the windows. He immediately dashed towards the loading ramp, eager to see what awaited him. It was what he'd hoped to find.

"Zae, you're alright!" he exclaimed at the girl standing before him. Or, rather, leaning on the wall before him. Her Jedi robes were bloodstained and burnt, her short blonde locks of hair ruffled from battle. Panting heavily, she grinned at him as other people began to enter the loading area around them. A pale Zabrak with a mechanical left arm in a tech suit entered from the garage, holding a hydrospanner in one hand.

He nodded understandably and spoke, "General."

A rusty red protocol droid walked up next to Bao-Dur, red eyes gleaming menacingly. "_Master_," he spoke, loathingly acknowledging his 'goody-two-shoes' owner.

From the central meeting room, behind the boy, emerged a teenage girl with striking red hair. A short leather jacket and mint green tie-shirt barely covered her upper body above half-armored dark green pants. She smiled with satisfaction at what she saw before her. A flash of ruby caught the bounty hunter's eye, as from the east dormitory emerged another girl, but this one, she knew, not human.

The Miraluka, covered in a dark-red-and-leather robe that veiled her sightless eyes, had a frown on. It immediately changed to a look of relief as soon as she saw her savior standing before her.

Entering directly opposite Visas was a boy, blonde and a bit older than the first, sporting a short, tan-and-brown version of the typical Jedi robe. He too had an extremely relieved expression, near the blushing point; the first boy glared at him, as if stating a claim, to which he did not notice. The final entree's expression was not this elaborate, as it was hidden behind a battle-scarred full body armor-suit. This was the recently-appointed Mandalore, leader of the scattered Mandalorian clans, which he was gathering up until he was disturbed by the woman he was now facing.

Only two people were missing: the _Ebon Hawk_'s astromech droid, T3-M4, was one of them. He was probably rolling around, fixing the ship. The second…

"Here, let me give you a hand, Zaenara." Mical moved in, Atton's burning gaze drilling holes into his neck, though still oblivious to it. "I'm sure you could use some rest after the huge ordeal you've been through." _An ordeal?_, thought Atton angrily. _That's what he calls being nearly stripped of all of your life-force? More like torture. What would he know, anyway?_ But still, Atton did nothing to stop them as they walked to the medical bay.

As Zaenara reached the bed, she said: "Thank you, Mical; and thank you everyone. You've been so supportive, and stuck with me through thick and thin; so I regret to say that there is one last thing we must—." She was cut off as she nearly fainted on the spot, breath sharp and short. Atton almost sprang over to her, but regained dignity and stood up straight as he saw she was fine. "I'm sorry, but I think I should get some rest for now. I will speak to you all in the morning."

The crew took that as their cue to leave; Atton pausing to look back, and then returning to the west crew quarters, followed by Bao-Dur and Mical. Both Visas and Mira broke off as well to head to the east crew quarters. Mandalore just headed back to the ship's central room.

However, while everyone else was having dreams—pleasant or none at all—Zaenara Cloud's mind was being battered with visions of things she had never seen or heard of.

_Visions of Pain; of Darkness. Of Anger and Hatred, Fury and Malice. Visions of Disaster. She could not do it. She just could not. She could not abandon the one she cared for. But she had to. If she did not, the small flickers of life she was connected to would burn out, her own blazing fire along with them. But then, her vision flashed and changed. She was flying across a jungle world, fresh with life forms of all different shapes and sizes. Fresh with the Force. Suddenly, she was in front of a huge structure. Columns and pillars, archways and rooftops, bursting with a design and substance she could not recognize; in all her years traveling she had seen nothing even similar to this. On top of it was a woman. A woman with flowing, flame-colored hair, dark brown robes somehow of the same, unknown tailoring as the building, and a peaceful yet unbelievably powerful aura. Her vision flashed once more. She was in a tiny white room filled with nothing but medical supplies. Next to her was a striking young man with short, smooth, dark brown hair. He was wearing a dark ribbed jacket and a dirtied white shirt, along with black pants that could not possibly get more torn. The man looked into her eyes with his own calm, yet concerned deep brown eyes. This was no vision._

"Atton."

"Yeah, it's me again. I just hope you're as happy to answer the crew's questions as I am to see you awake. What was happening? In your dreams, I mean. You were thrashing about like you were losing a game of Pazaak you bet 10,000 credits on."

"I—" she began. But she remembered what she had learned in that dream. What Kreia—Darth Traya, she mentally corrected—had told her. "I was having a bad dream, that's all."

"Hmm... didn't think Jedi had bad dreams... Well, anyway, I'm sure that even Mandalore's anxious to here the news you spoke of, so we should go."

"Yeah..." She giggled a bit at his comment on her 'unemotional' friend. She hadn't heard any of Atton's sarcastic lines since Dantooine, and it felt good to laugh again. Zaenara stood up carefully, testing to see how awake she actually was, and walked to the main room, Atton behind her. She could not see the relief on his face as she walked into the main room of the _Ebon Hawk_, everybody waiting for her.

_Here goes nothing..._

Zaenara Cloud, former Jedi Knight, slumped down on her bed. Her mind was tired out, and she had a headache from all of the talking she had done to her crew. She had told them everything, from what Sion said to how she had defeated Darth Traya. Everything, that is, except what Traya had told her; about what she must do, where she must go. _Finally, I've finished explaining,_ she thought exhaustedly. _I just hope the crew isn't going to ask any more questions. Especially Mical. He's cute and kind an' all, but he really doesn't know when to stop asking 'Why?' even to himself... It was weird, though... Atton didn't ask anything; he just sat there, looking satisfied and understanding. It was so unlike him... Maybe... maybe what Traya sa—_. But she was cut off by another pang of her headache. Decidedly, she pulled up the covers over her head and went to sleep silently.

Oddly, she had no dreams; and when she awoke, she felt refreshed and alive despite her previous condition. Carefully, she got up and had breakfast. Her morning was much like that of 'normal,' if having no-one talk to you, and them avoiding your eyes, is normal. Her mind was always on alert, and today was no exception, even though she knew she had defeated the immediate threat; seeing as they were also orbiting around Onderon, she wouldn't be attacked from anywhere, by anyone. Delving into the ship's computer, she had attempted to find all she could about Revan, but the only thing potentially related was the fact that there had been a 'MASS FILE DOWNLOAD' to an unknown drive. It looked as if she would have to find information elsewhere. Maybe looking on Onderon would help? After all, she remembered hearing that the former Dark Lord had once gone to Onderon and helped establish a new ruler. She went to the east crew quarters to see if anyone would go. All she found was Atton and Bao-Dur, who was still sleeping.

Quietly, she asked, "Atton, will you come down to Onderon with me? I need to find some... information..." She felt bad about lying to him, but this had to be done; Mira was on a weapon shopping spree, Visas was meditating, she knew taking HK in would be suicide, and she couldn't find the other guys.

"Sure I will, Zae. Maybe I could go to the cantina, check out some old friends..." He seemed to know she couldn't tell him about the 'information,' but it might just have been her imagination. Since the ship was already docked with the orbiting service station, they could rent a transport down to the surface.

**Author's Notes:**

Ha-HA!

Version 3.0!

DWAH!

:happy dance!:

I realize that writing a chapter has taken a REALLY long time, but, as I may have mentioned, I REALLY needed to organize my thoughts and crap. Now, I know **_everything_**... Well, maybe not _everything_, but at least I know most stuff... Well, maybe not even that... hmm... AAAnyway, input would be greatly desired, as school and everything will make it hard to re-type-up another chapter (I'll try to make it as fast as possible!).

Just remember, NO FLAMES!

Did you know that "llama" means "flame" in Spanish? Damn...


	2. Chapter 2: The Mysterious Stranger

_Disclaimer: Yes, yes. No one here belongs to me, (even Carth! TT-TT). Excepting, that is, my own characters, who belong to themselves. And all the love-slaves; they belong to their love-masters. o-0_

Chapter II: The Mysterious Stranger

"There are _no records_?!?" the Exile screamed, astonished. Her glare was incredibly fierce to the droid before her.

"I am sorry, madam, but no records exist of relevance to your queries." The droid spoke with a robotic tone, in a slightly sneering, almost condescending way.

Zaenara signed audibly. She had been searching all day, in every record accessible to her. Of course, nothing had turned up 'of relevance to her queries.' Her query was that of Revan: what she did, where she went; even what she'd looked like would be helpful at this point.

"Well, can you please call me on my ship's commlink if anything shows up? I'd like to know the second you find anything."

"Yes, madam; I will alert you."

Sighing once again, Zaenara quietly treaded along the shining floor of the Royal Archives, her spirits down for the count. She had never believed that researching—even if it came up with nothing—could be so tiring. She walked back towards the entertainment quarter, where Atton would be waiting for her.

Just then, she could sense a presence. It was not of the ordinary Onderonian. It had a special quality which gave it a powerful aura; the powerful aura of a Force user. Silently, she stepped towards the alleyway which held the presence. A tug in the Force told her of an immediate danger, coming from the direction of the alley. Quickly and without hesitation, she unbelted her lightsaber, activating it in a threatening fashion.

A moderately strong voice, of a male human, spoke in a hushed tone, almost to himself. "Quick reflexes, and perfect timing. Just what I'd expect from a Weapon Master."

The Exile pointed her glowing weapon at the human, only to reveal, under the silver light, a youthful boy in his early adulthood. His eyes stared, unblinking, at the woman before him; it seemed as if he did not even notice the blade, which was nearly touching his throat. Zaenara could almost recognize him, he was so familiar. Yet, his face proved unable to be placed, as time went on.

"Who are you?" asked the Exile, in an interrogatory tone. Whoever he was, he was a powerful Force-user, and that could not go by unlooked.

"My name... It is not important. Who is important is who you're looking for. Or have I the wrong Exile?"

She almost fell over in astonishment. How could he, despite being a Force-user, possibly know who she was looking for? She had thought that she had the Pazaak method down right...

"How do you know this?"

"Oh, please. It is a simple matter to know who you are; any one person connected to the Force can sense you a mile away. The other matter, though, is not as simple as that. Only a person with connections to the Royal Archives would be able to access _that_ information." He had a smug look on as he said this, obviously proud of himself. Then, though, he seemed to remember something, and dismissed the look for a more serious one.

"You have access to the Royal Archives?"

"More so than that, but yes. I am the one who edits the Archives, makes sure nothing escapes that shouldn't." Zaenara saw another smirk play across his face, and a gleam along his deep brown eyes. "The information on Revan that you are looking for—"

"You know where she is?"

"Not exactly. But first, I must know—do you trust me?" His face was set with determination, detectable even in a lightsaber's shine. He was not meant to be deceiving; Zae could tell. Her former master, Kreia, had taught her how to read one's emotions without the use of the force. She could easily respond, truthfully:

"Yes, I trust you."

"Good. Mistrust doesn't exactly build a good friendship, does it?" That infamous smirk appeared yet again.

"I suppose not."

"Well, then, we'd better get started. Follow me to my home, Exile. I will give you the information you need."

From a hill above a housing complex, Zaenara Cloud could see across the whole area. Beige-white buildings conquered the dip in land, with various types of trees speckling the development. A large patch of green indicated a town garden, from which many signals in the Force emitted.

The force-sensitive stranger beside her pointed out a humble off-white building, with a rust-red roof and the unique Onderonian style.

"That is my humble home away from home. It's not much, but for me, it works just fine." The stranger started off towards it, and Zaenara soon followed. There really _was_ something familiar about this one. Something about his mahogany hair and deep brown eyes gave off that distinctive heroic trait. But, without his name, she couldn't fairly place him. Nevertheless, she dutifully followed him as this mysterious stranger led her towards his house.

As they reached the house, the stranger slid open the door with a flick of his hand, commanding the Force. Inside was a simple room, with a restcouch, a few tables, and a holovid projector. They followed the stairs which led to an upstairs bedroom, smaller than the average. A small sleepcouch lay in the corner, a cluttered desk in another. It seemed that this so-apparent force-user was also a businessman.

The stranger approached the wall opposite the desk, above the couch. Another flick of his fingers, and a concealed hatch opened to reveal a datapad, small and basic, but Zaenara knew there was more to it. Her instincts told her it was extremely important, and questioned again the identity of this man. As they withdrew from the house, she could sense a bit of conflict in him, like he was almost debating on whether or not to give it to her.

"All that was recovered... all of the searching... it led to this," he said, handing the datapad to her. As he said it, he also pulled out what appeared to be a chrome silver star, longer on one end than all the others. He tightly grasped it in one hand.

"This means something to you, doesn't it?" Zaenara spoke slowly, in a hesitant voice.

"Indeed it does."

"Did... did you know her?"

It took a moment before he responded, more hesitant than herself, as if he did not fully entrust her.

"You could say so. We met briefly, on Korriban; she helped me turn to the light. I still feel responsible for finding her, though. The Republic, the Jedi, everyone needs her... _he_ needs her..."

From all her experiences, Zae did not even need the Force to tell her to stay silent about whomever he refused to name.

"That is why I'm giving you this. All our hopes rest in you hands, Exile. I sincerely hope you will find her, for all our sakes." As he said it, he slowly pressed the star into her hand. It was slightly warm to the touch, as if there was a bit of the Force inside it. "Goodbye, dear Zaenara."

Silently, she started walking away, but then she stopped, noticing something.

"How do you know my name?"

"Ah, that is something for another time." Mischievously, he grinned and walked back towards the house from where he came. She was still wondering over his identity, staring into the setting sun, when she grievously remembered something.

"Atton!"

**Author's Notes**

Hoo-ha!!

Ah, but who _is_ this mysterious stranger? Let's think... Who do we know with deep brown, awesome eyes? Coincidentally, he also has mahogany hair! Whoever knows me, you know to whom those adjectives belong! Now, think younger, and more force-usingy!

Confused?

My mission is complete!!


	3. Chapter 3: In His Arms

_Disclaimer: Yah, Yah. Lucasarts and Obsidian and Bioware are being selfish. We all know the story, right?_

Chapter III: In His Arms

Gasping; running; gasping; running. Zaenara Cloud could barely think straight through sprinting across the darkening urban landscape of the city, Iziz. All her power was strictly devoted to keeping herself running strongly.

_How could I have forgotten him? How could I have? And now, the sun is setting, and Atton has probably already left the cantina; he's been waiting all day for me! He'll be so angry with me, for being gone so long. I wouldn't blame him, either. Oh, how could I have been so STUPID?!_

Gasping; running; gasping; running. The city streets seemed endless to the eyes of the young Exile. Yet, at the same time, the sun was falling rapidly over the horizon, reddening the sky. All the buildings, all the roadways; they all seemed the same to her: beige, clay-like structures over the mahogany and burgundy pavement.

Just then, though, she found it. She found the alleyway which led into the merchant quarter, right by the entrance to the Skyramp. She even saw the familiar gray-haired, balding man who guarded the Ramp, disgruntled as ever. Then, the western square's entrance; a group of mercenary Beast-riders still hung around, nearby a minor cantina. But, this one wasn't the one she was looking for. She continued on, searching for the landmark locations. There: Dhagon Ghent's place, the occupant being whom she and her companions had helped clear his name of murder. There: the droid merchant 1B-8D, who played a key part of the same investigation, supplying evidence to support Ghent's claim. And, finally, she saw it: the cantina, in the front of the square, which she had been to numerous times in previous trips here, when General Vaklu still had power; its colorful neon signs were still flashing brightly. Rushing through the crowds of people she quickly opened the door and stepped inside.

The air was familiar to her, as all things in this area were. She could smell the scent of straight juma juice, Onderonian pale ale, and other coma-inducing alcoholic drinks. Among this, a musty scent and even poisonous spice could be smelled. Hesitantly at first, almost afraid, Zaenara closed her eyes and focused on the thoughts of those around her, just skimming the surface. She searched and searched, scared of what she would find, _if_ she found it.

A lonely man, drowning his sorrows in drunkenness...

A group of estranged teenagers, looking for some fun...

A forced mercenary, discussing his new business...

She could feel a burning tear running down her cheek.

_Change the face of the +/- 2 card, the total becomes 11. Draw the +9 card from the deck, the total becomes 20. Play the +1 card, the total becomes 21._

She mentally gasped in astonishment. It was him! Without a second notion, Zae ran towards the direction of the thoughts, worry still on her mind. As she dashed around the corner, she spotted him, sitting alone at a table, drinking a shot glass of juma juice. His mahogany brown hair and eyes somehow made him seem darkened, yet not angrily. His ribbed jacket was more ruffled than usual, a sign of some previous conflicts.

Suddenly, he looked up, and his deep brown eyes found hers. He stood up fast, his chair making protests as it screeched across the hard floor. He made a motion towards her.

Zaenara looked downwards to avert his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Atton!" She said it between taking breaths of air, as she was still exhausted from running. "I'm so sorry I wasn't back on time! I just got so sidetracked, and..." _I can't tell him who I met! I would have to explain why I was here, and if I told him that..._ "I'm so sorry for making you wait, Atton. You've been so kind to me, and I've just been a klutz in return. I understand if you're angry with me..."

Moments passed in the cantina, the two not saying a word to each other. Zaenara never took her eyes away from the floor, and so she couldn't see his emotions. She didn't try to feel it through the Force, either; that would just make him madder with her. She didn't exactly expect what he said next, however.

"Why would I ever be angry with you?"

For the second time today, Zaenara nearly gasped. She looked back up at his face, only to find a great mixture of feelings: sorrow, regret, relief, happiness, and even self-loathing could be found in his emotions, but none of them were anger.

"But, I left you waiting here—"

"I don't care about that, Zae. All I care about is that you're safe. One minute I felt your presence, and the next... It was as if you had left the Force, with only an echo left."

_He seems so worried, so anxious._

"All I know is, I don't ever want to feel like that ever again."

The next few moments were unclear to Zaenara. She didn't know how it happened, just that one moment she was standing in front of Atton, and the following precious moments she became enveloped in his strong arms, caught up in a fully-fledged embrace. She did not know why, but she was no longer worried, no longer stressed over the long day. The strain in her heart seemed to simply dissolve as Atton and she stayed in each other's arms for what seemed like hours. It seemed so natural for Zae to be so close to him, to be in his arms. When they finally had to separate from themselves, it was as if the world came crashing down onto them again.

"We should probably get going back to the ship..." said Atton, sheepishly grinning as he averted Zae's gaze, despite the fact that it was also towards the floor.

"Yeah, we should go..." She had tried to distract herself with the sketchy tiling of the ceramic floor of the cantina, but she couldn't help notice the bright patches of red that masked Atton's cheeks. Now that she thought about it, her own were beginning to feel a bit warm.

Finally, Zaenara Cloud and Atton Rand made it back into the _Ebon Hawk_, still a bit embarrassed over what happened in the Iziz cantina. Zaenara was heading off to the starboard crew quarters, and Atton to his usual seat in the cockpit. Both of them needed some time to think over what had happened, and this need was mutual.

Zaenara sighed as she stepped into the 'fresher for a quick shower. The hot water melted away her sore muscles... _Just like how I felt in his arms..._ She mentally shook herself. How could she think of him like that? They were both Jedi, and had their duties to the Code. Not to mention he was roguish, never showered, and was always rude. He was a pure scoundrel; a dirty, rotten scoundrel. Yet, somehow, that made him even more likeable to her...

As soon as she got out of the shower and dressed herself for sleeping, she headed over to her sleep-couch. Zae lay down, only to immediately sit back up again, hitting her head in the process. Clamping her mouth shut in pain, she looked over onto the sleep-couch where she had lain. The tiny datapad, which she had worked so hard to find and had rushed to Atton because of, was sitting silently on the sheets. It had remained in the same place that she had tossed it before her shower. Zae picked it up and, hesitantly at first, pressed the side button to activate it.

In a flash, the small screen flickered to life before her. On the screen was what seemed to be a sort of free-style poem, without a rhyme.

The Time of the Light is nigh:

When all of the black shall be washed from the white;

When the Chosen Kings shall shine upon our world;

When the Wraiths shall be slain; the Monsters, killed.

They shall be birthed of Chaos, but robed in sun.

They shall come from the land of the black watcher.

Only their power will stop the darkness.

Only their swords will lead us to victory.

The Time of the Light has come.

Author's Notes

I'm getting faster at this!

So, what do you think?

I like it, actually...

It's very... indescribable in its style... which is why I can't describe it...

I think I used too many ...'s, though.

GAHHH:bashes head in:

I can't stop criticizing myself today!


End file.
